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<\/a><\/div>\nThe last place Arabella Barr expected to encounter Major Gareth Reynard was at a Falmouth hiring fair. Three years ago, she would have rejoiced to see his tall, lithe figure striding toward her through a throng, but not there. Not while carrying the tools of her trade along with dozens of other hopeful men and women in need of work, parading past what were mostly the butlers and housekeepers of ladies and gentlemen in need of servants. Yet there she stood, a wooden spoon and a copper pot gleaming in her hand, a mere shade or two brighter than her own ruddy locks. And there he strolled, a glass of lemonade in his hand, and a stout, middle-aged woman in black gown and frilled white cap at his side.<\/p>\n
Arabella saw him too late to escape, even if eluding his notice were an option. She could not get hired if she ducked behind the copper pan, or the woman beside her, who was twice her width and half a head taller. And she needed someone to hire her. She had spent nearly every farthing she possessed to remove herself to this remote corner of England in an effort to avoid persons who once called her friend or, at the least, social equal. No employment by the end of the fair meant no roof over her head that night and precious little to eat. So why, oh, why, was he in Cornwall instead of with his regiment in Belgium with half the ton<\/em>? Why oh why had she not fled somewhere like the Hebrides to find work away from the peers who now shunned her as though she would contaminate them with a mere glimpse of her?<\/p>\n The answer to her decision was simple\u2014a Scots household that could afford a cook would not hire an English one. The reason for Major Reynard\u2019s presence at the Falmouth hiring fair baffled Arabella into immobility of body and thought, as he drew close enough to speak to her.<\/p>\n \u201cArabella\u2014Miss Barr.\u201d He was not inflicted with immobility. His blue eyes sparkled as though sunshine blessed the warm summer day. His lips, the lower one enticing with its cleft in the middle, curved into a smile. \u201cHere you are at last.\u201d<\/p>\n Apparently paralyzed from the ability to emit speech, Arabella\u2019s mouth remained closed. Not a word formed in her head to move to her tongue, even if those words could force their way past her lips.<\/p>\n \u201cI never thought I\u2019d find you.\u201d Major Reynard was speaking again, though her ears seemed to have lost their ability to understand English, for his syllables made not sense to her. \u201cBut now that I have\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cSir,\u201d The housekeeper-looking woman beside him interrupted, \u201cbegging your pardon, and I don\u2019t recommend you hire this one. She\u2019s too young and too pretty.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI\u2019m not interested in hiring her.\u201d Major Reynard reached a hand toward Arabella. \u201cPlease, my dear\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Like a shock from one of those electrifying machines, the words \u201cmy dear\u201d shot through Arabella and spurred her into action. She flung up her pot like a shield and fixed him with a glare. \u201cIf you have no intention of hiring me, then step aside so someone else can.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cArabella, my dear\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cI am not your dear, or have you forgotten that you jilted me three years ago?\u201d She spun on her broken-down heel and stalked through the crowd to another corner of the grounds.<\/p>\n From the corner of her eye, she watched him bend his head toward the housekeeper as though speaking earnestly, confidentially. Arabella could only guess at the words, as she could see neither Major Reynard\u2019s nor the housekeeper\u2019s faces, nor hear their voices above the tumult of cries of, \u201cWill you pay for this,\u201d from maids wielding dust mops, \u00a0and \u201cHot pies. Get your hot pies here,\u201d from piemen carrying their trays above their heads.<\/p>\n \u201cShe nearly ruined my career three years ago, Mrs. Housekeeper.\u201d The major would be saying. Or if he was in a humor to be kind, \u201cOr rather, her father did. I\u2019ve been looking for her to\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n Why he had found her \u201cat last\u201d Arabella couldn\u2019t imagine. He had left the country with his regiment the first week the banns for their nuptials had been called instead of staying in England for the wedding. And Arabella had fled London with little more than the clothes on her back and ring\u2014<\/p>\n A-ha! The ring. He wanted the ring back. No doubt he had found another heiress to bestow the betrothal band upon and couldn\u2019t afford to buy another such bauble on a major\u2019s pay.<\/p>\n Arabella raised her left hand to examine the bare finger. She had sold the ring to hold body and soul together until she convinced someone to hire a cook barely into her twenties.<\/p>\n She lowered her hand to see another housekeeper was bearing down upon her like a hawk on a mouse. \u201cReferences?\u201d The word was a fox\u2019s yip.<\/p>\n \u201cYes, ma\u2019am.\u201d Tucking the pot and spoon under one arm, Arabella drew two folded papers from her reticule. \u201cI\u2019ve been creating pastries since I was ten years of age and advanced to sauces and roasting meats when I was fifteen.\u201d<\/p>\n Because she begged the cook in her father\u2019s house to teach her on lonely days when she couldn\u2019t spend her lonely hours riding..<\/p>\n \u201cAs you see\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cWhy did you leave your previous employer?\u201d the housekeeper interrupted her.<\/p>\n \u201cTheir London chef decided he wanted a spell in their country house.\u201d<\/p>\n And she had seen Major Reynard\u2019s name on the guest list for an upcoming houseparty. The Featherstones had been kind to her. She didn\u2019t wish to embarrass them with her true identity emerging while guests from the haut-ton<\/em> filled their house.<\/p>\n \u201cAs you see from my references, my work was more than satisfactory. I, um\u2014\u201c She forgot what she intended to say, for she spied the major striding toward her through the crowd without his housekeeper this time. I\u2019m good.\u201d She finished with a lameness that would convince no one to hire her.<\/p>\n But the housekeeper was reading her references with care.<\/p>\n \u201cShe might have written those herself.\u201d Major Reynard\u2019s rich timbre rolled over her ears like a drayman\u2019s wagon now, though once upon a time, it had sent shivers of delight racing through her. \u201cShe has a fine hand.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI don\u2019t. I mean, I didn\u2019t. That is to say. . .\u201d Arabella\u2019s voice trailed off as the potential employer thrust the letters back.<\/p>\n \u201cYou look too young.\u201d She trundled off to \u00a0a stout woman with a dented tin pot.<\/p>\n \u201cHow could you?\u201d Tears stung Arabella\u2019s eyes. She blinked them back and thrust the handle of her wooden spoon into Major Reynard\u2019s neatly tied cravat. \u201cShe was giving me serious consideration and now-now you\u2019ve ruined it. But what should I expect from you other than to to ruin my life?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cYou don\u2019t need to be working like a common servant now that I have finally located you.\u201d He reached for her arm.<\/p>\n She jerked away. \u201cYou are giving all the potential employers a wrong impression of me.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMiss Barr, I am trying to talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cAnd what you are doing is creating a scene.\u201d<\/p>\n A circle of silent onlookers surrounded them.<\/p>\n \u201cWe can\u2019t talk here, Ara\u2014Miss Barr.\u201d The major took her elbow. \u201cI have a private parlor in the inn and my housekeeper will chaperone.\u201d<\/p>\n She tucked pot, spoon, and the bag with her measly belongings behind her back. \u201cThe time for talking to me was three years ago. But, you couldn\u2019t flee fast enough from so much as a fare-the-well.\u201d Tears stung her eyes, clogged her throat, and she stepped backward before he noticed.<\/p>\n And stepped on someone\u2019s foot.<\/p>\n \u201cYow, ye broke me toe.\u201d The cry sounded more like the yowl of a cat defending its territory than a young woman.<\/p>\n The blow she dealt Arabella on the side of her head with the handle of a broom felt more like a truncheon. She gasped and staggered. Her pot flew in one direction, her spoon in another. The pot knocked the brushes from the hand of a chimney sweep, and a stray dog snatched up the spoon and darted through the crowd as though he had captured a meaty bone.<\/p>\n Major Reynard captured Arabella by her arms. \u201cAre you all right? Shall I catch that woman and lay an information against her for assaulting her?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cMy spoon. My pot.\u201d Arabella shrieked her dismay. \u201cI need them. I\u2014\u201c She yanked free and darted after the sweep with her pot. She couldn\u2019t afford a new one. She wouldn\u2019t have that one if she hadn\u2019t slipped it out of the house ahead of the bailiffs come to collect all the Barrs\u2019 worldly possessions.<\/p>\n But the sweep was small as his kind was wont to be, and the fair crowded. He vanished from her sight before she ran a dozen yards.<\/p>\n And she had just lost her reticule. One cord of her bag still dangled over her sleeve from where a cutpurse had taken advantage of the chaos and run off with the last of her worldly wealth\u2014two shillings and a happens.<\/p>\n She stared at the frayed string and wished the maid had wielded the broom a little harder. If she had been knocked unconscious, she could wake up to discover this was all a nightmare. But she was already awake and this was not a nightmare. Stark reality told her she was now bereft of the tools of her trade, her references, and a paltry sum of money, but enough for a pie.<\/p>\n How she would adore a pie. Though the crust would likely be tough and greasy, not her own flaky pastry light enough to blow away with a puff of air, sustenance of any kind would help ease the gnawing emptiness inside her, an emptiness caused by a lack of nourishment for the past two days, and a hollow place in her chest once filled by her love for a dashing cavalry officer.<\/p>\n That cavalry officer reached her side and simply held out his elbow for her to take as though they promenaded through a garden party at a country house and not through a malodorous throng. He wore the buckskin breeches and top boots of the country gentleman rather than his uniform, and yet he was no less dashing. Chiseled features, broad shoulders, and narrow hips did that for a man when he was also confident to the point of arrogance, expecting all to move from his path and do his bidding despite his position of the third son of a modestly prosperous baronet.<\/p>\n Resigned to the notion that she should at least get a meal from his wish to speak to her, Arabella was no different than those around him. She took his elbow and allowed him to lead her through a throng that parted like a joint beneath a cleaver<\/p>\n Half way across the green, he stopped and held out his hand. \u201cI will carry your bag.\u201d<\/p>\n She gave it to him. That was easier than arguing. He took it with the tensed muscles of someone who expected a heavy burden. At the lightness of the bag, little more than a drawstring sack like an over-sized reticule, he took half a minute to gaze down at her, his dark blue eyes registering an expression she chose to believe was pity.<\/p>\n \u201cI expected more,\u201d he said.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat more could I have after three years on the run?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cBut why\u2014\u201c He shook his head and resumed walking, his stride long, his footfalls striking the ground hard enough for her to feel them through his arm.<\/p>\n \u201cThat damage your conscience?\u201d she taunted. \u201cIf you have one.\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cArabella, please don\u2019t.\u201d He didn\u2019t say what he didn\u2019t want from her\u2014as if he hadn\u2019t said that loudly and clearly three years earlier\u2014for the reached the inn.<\/p>\n The tap and coffeerooms bulged with sweating, shouting humanity on either side of the entryway. The Major shouldered his way through the swarm and up a flight of steps to a room at the top of the steps. He knocked and the housekeeper opened the portal to show a plainly furnished room with a table and chairs, a sideboard and desk, an oasis in the desert.<\/p>\n \u201cMrs. Polglaze,\u201d Reynard said, \u201cdid you order some dinner?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cI did, sir, and there\u2019s warm water in the next room if Miss Barr wishes to freshen herself up a mite.\u201d She bestowed a kindly look upon Arabella. \u201cShall I show you the way?\u201d<\/p>\n She showed Arabella to an adjoining room. Warm water and soap, though harsh, restored some of her dignity. A comb for her tumbled hair helped even more. The smell of meat pies and other savory dishes brought into the parlor by an inn servant nearly restored her to a shred of the confidence that had gotten her out of London and into a paying position before she starved to death.<\/p>\n Then she strolled into the parlor and faced Major Gareth Reynard in enough quiet and privacy for them to speak for the first time since he slipped out of her life. The fragrance of the meal gagged her. Her knees grew so weak she clutched the back of a chair to stop herself from dropping to her knees on the floorboards. Only her pride gave her the strength to look the major in the eyes.<\/p>\n \u201cWhat do you want?\u201d she demanded.<\/p>\n \u201cYour forgiveness.\u201d He gripped the back of his own chair. He had removed his gloves prior to eating, and his knuckles shone as white as hers. \u201cAnd to tell you why I did what I did. To explain. . . Explain. . .\u201d<\/p>\n Arabella made herself laugh. \u201cYou think you can explain away leaving me at the altar or as near as it doesn\u2019t matter?\u201d<\/p>\n \u201cNot explain away, but\u2014\u201c<\/p>\n \u201cThank you, sirrah, and your actions gave me all the explanation I have needed for the past three years and continue to need. You promised me everlasting love, but vanished into the arms of the war the day after the constable hauled my father off to Newgate Prison.\u201d<\/p>\n
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